Second Life
by Pandoras-Closet
Summary: Hermione's not herself any more.


The body lay in the alleyway. It was a young girl, perhaps sixteen years of age. She had bushy brown hair, the pale skin of someone who spent too much time indoors and wore nondescript clothes. A bag of books lay on the ground, wet from the summer drizzle falling on London.

The body's throat had been slashed and a purse lay at the alley's mouth, empty.

In time, the body would have been discovered, the police summoned, the body identified as one Hermione Granger, and the parents notified. They would have grieved, buried their daughter and tried to move on.

Would have, except, that something very peculiar happened; Hermione's body began to glow.

Herbert and Janet Granger were two of the most ordinary people possible. They were dentists, both having graduated from university with high honors and a successful practice in a decent section of London. They took a vacation to the mainland twice a year and took a proper amount of pride in their daughter Hermione.

Herbert was pushing forty, starting to go bald and wore glasses. He had long narrow fingers and a perpetual squint from staring into mouths all day. He was an oral surgeon, spending his days at the office performing root canals, extraction of wisdom teeth, and the like.

Janet was lean and tall, with dark brown hair and a large eyes. The older of the two, she attended to matters of general dentistry and the children who came through the office doors.

She was the center of Herbert's world, though he sometimes felt depressed that he was fast losing his youth while Janet still appeared to be in her 20's. She thought he was being silly, but Herbert remained convinced that he was losing his appeal.

Today, they sat together in the dining area of their cottage and drank tea as they did when neither had to go into the office.

"Let's go out tonight," Janet said. "I really don't want to heat up the kitchen, not in this weather."

"All right, Jan," Herbert agreed. "Where?"

Before Janet could respond, the front door banged open. They exchanged glances. "Hermione, dear? Is that you?" Janet called out. There was the sound of a heavy bag hitting the floor and slow, shuffling footsteps.

"Hermione?" Herbert asked. Around the corner came a young woman wearing Hermione's clothes stretched tight over lean, firm curves. Her hair was straight and glossy black and her eyes were deep blue. Her expression was vacant and she stared dumbly at them. But what drew Herbert's attention was that her shirt was drenched with blood.

"Who?" he demanded, rising from his chair.

The stranger stared at them vacantly.

"Mum?" she said in a little lost girl voice.

In the space of a heartbeat, Janet was out of her chair and staring into the young woman's eyes, looking for something. Then her shoulders slumped and she sighed.

"Jan, what's going on?" Herbert demanded. "Who is this? Why is she wearing Hermione's clothes? What's going on?"

Janet ignored him and addressed the stranger. "Yes, Hermione, it's me. It's your mum."

"I'm all messy," she said in that same little girl voice.

"Yes, Hermione, I see that. Go to your room and change clothes. I'll be along in a bit." The young woman nodded and shuffled out.

Janet turned and looked at Herbert. "Herbert . . ."

"Damnit, Janet, what is going on? Why are you calling that person Hermione? That is not our daughter!"

"She is Hermione," Janet snapped. "She is our daughter, no matter how she looks, and I will take care of it."

"You will? Janet, if this has to do with --"

"You promised." Janet whispered, eyes filled with pain.

The two words froze him in mid-sentence. When he had proposed, she had told him that he must never ask about her past. Sloppy in love with her, Herbert had promised he wouldn't, and he'd kept that promise for nearly 20 years. But now . . . damn it all, this was about his daughter!

"Jan . . ."

"You promised," she said again. "Herbert, please. I'll take care of it."

"But --"

"Go to the pub for a bit," she said, taking his keys off the hook and pressing them into his hand. "Take your time."

"But--"

"The pub, Herbert."

They stared at each other, his fury and fear versus the veil of mystery she'd always worn and never taken off, even for him. He stared at her, trying to pierce that veil, trying to find even a hint, but it withstood him and he turned and walked out, storming past the massive grandfather clock in the living room, and out into the street.

Legs shaking, Janet leaned against the kitchen counter as the clock chimed the hour. Damn it all to hell, she was about to lose everything again. She didn't think she could handle that, not so soon.

"Why did I have to be the last?" she asked the empty kitchen. She got no reply. After a few moments, she pushed away the fear and the pain. For Hermione's sake, she had to stay sane. Once that was taken care of . . . she drew in a deep breath, and marched down the hall to Hermione's room.

Hermione sat on her bed, staring at her closet, whose contents had been strewn on the floor. She was clad only in her knickers and she looked up at her mother in confusion.

"Nothing fits right. Nothing seems right," she said. "I don't feel right."

"That's the way of it, Hermione," Janet said and picked up a bathrobe. 'Keep using her name, hold her to the present,' she thought to herself and held out the robe. "Come on then, put this on."

Hermione donned the bathrobe and then resumed staring at the empty closet.

Janet sighed. This whole thing was bad enough if you knew what was coming. If not . . . well, at least Hermione appeared to be stable, just in a state of shock. Small blessings, she supposed. "Come with me."

Hermione numbly followed her mother out of her room and back into the living room where they stopped before the clock. Janet sighed and pulled out the small pendant she had worn on a chain around her neck for her entire adult life. It was made of metal, shaped like a shield, and a cross coming out from one point. She pulled the chain over her head and slipped the key into a hidden lock on the clock's door. She turned the key once, and then pushed the door inward, the pendulum seeming to fade from sight.

Then, as though this was perfectly normal. Janet took Hermione's hand and pulled her inside.

Hermione's mouth fell open. This . . . this was impossible. She'd seen places that were bigger inside than on the outside, but those were tents or rooms in a building. But inside a clock?

She stood in a large, circular room. Metal bumps lined the walls and the center of the room was taken up by a circular console covered with knobs, buttons, levers and switches. A large monitor screen covered the wall opposite the door and next to it was another door covered with a bas-relief of some creature Hermione had never seen before. The light came from some unseen source high overhead and a glass pillar rose from the console all the way to the ceiling.

"Mum?" Hermione asked. "What? How is this possible? What is this?"

"A little something of mine," Janet replied. "And really, given some of the things you've told me about your school, your friends and that . . . Qudditch game, this should hardly be worth batting an eye."

But Hermione didn't hear her. Her brain, jolted into action by shock, was at full tilt, digesting evidence, applying logic and then dispensing a conclusion. "It's . . . it's a tesseract space. The inside of the clock has been folded in on itself so that it's larger then the outside."

"Close," Janet replied. "You can't really fold space, not for long, but that suffices for now."

"Mum, are you a witch? Or a squib?"

Janet shook her head. "No, dear, nothing so fantastic as any of that. Just . . . just a survivor. This way." With that, she led Hermione through the other door and into a long corridor. The walls, ceiling and floor were sterile white and at regular intervals were other doors, or hallways leading off to other places. Finally, they stopped before one door which opened onto a vast space filled with racks and racks of clothes.

Janet tapped controls on the wall next to the door and the racks moved. Some dropped into the floor, others slid into walls, and within moments, the room had emptied except for a handful of racks and shelves.

But oh, what racks they were! Shirts, jeans, pants, jumpers, in all sorts of styles and colors. The shelves held shoes of all types and colors. Trainers, heels, flats, pumps, sandals, boots. There was even a selection of hats and watches ranging from fancy digital to analog pocket-watches of various styles and types of chain. And bins of accessories. Wallets, pins, ties, and more.

"Go on, there should be something you like," Janet said, taking a small stool and sitting on it, leaning back against the wall.

Hesitantly, Hermione began to prowl the racks. "Mum?"

"Yes?"

"Where did you get this? All this? Why do I look different? It's like everything is different. I feel different. I don't understand it at all and I hate it."

Janet laughed softly and looked up at the ceiling. "I'm sure you've figured out by now that I'm not from Cardiff at all. I was born . . . no, that's not quite right. I was . . ." Janet's lips thinned into a line. "Suffice it to say, I'm no more human than this," she waved her hand to indicate the room, "is a clock."

"You're an alien?" Hermione asked, her tone incredulous. "From outer space?"

Janet nodded. "From very far away."

"How far away?"

"The light from our sun has yet to reach earth," Janet replied. "We were an ancient race, with a history going back millions of years."

"'Were?'" Hermione turned and looked at her mother. "What does that mean."

Something passed across Janet's face and her expression hardened. "There was a war. A terrible war . . . and we won . . . and lost. My people are gone, except for me, and now you."

Hermione let some of the clothes fall to the floor. "So . . . you came to Earth? Surely there must have been other places."

Janet shook her head. "I crashed here. Power was low and the materials I need to make full repairs won't be available for another fifty years at least. So, I did what I could and settled in to wait. University and then some sort of career seemed like a way to pass the time, and that's where I met your father. We married, you were born, and that was that." She smiled. "I've never been content before that, but now . . . " she shrugged. "I am. Funny how things work out."

"I see. So why do I look . . ." Hermione gestured at herself, "like this?"

"It's a little trick my people can do at the moment of death. I wasn't sure if you could as well, though if . . ." she trailed off. "An even longer tale and a very old one. Never mind."

"Does Dad know?"

"I'm sure he has some ideas, but I told him that I don't want to talk about my past, and bless him, he's never pressed me for details. You can't say a word about this to him either."

"But why not? He's going to ask questions about . . . me."

Janet shrugged. "I'll handle it."

Hermione was at the shelves now, adding things to the small bundle of clothes she held in one arm. She made a few other selections and finally turned to her mother. "Where?"

Janet waved an arm at the wall. "Through there."

Hermione disappeared through the door to the changing area and Janet busied herself with cleaning up the mess. She noticed with approval and a bit of concern that all the conservative clothing had been tossed aside as well as most of the more provocative designs. That spoke volumes about Hermione's new personality. Less introverted then she had been, but probably not a "party girl".

"Mum?"

Janet turned. Hermione stood in the middle of the room. She wore a button down shirt with a black tie, dark blue pants and a vest that was a touch too snug and a light coat that came down to mid-thigh. A tie pin in the shape of a question mark adorned her coat lapel and she wore a fedora at a jaunty angle. Boots with a slight heel were on her feet.

"What do you think?" Hermione asked, turning slowly.

"It's what you think that matters, dear," Janet said. "Do you like it?"

Hermione examined her reflection in the mirror. "Yes, I do."

"Excellent," Janet clapped her hands together and finished straightening the room. "Come on," and with that, she led the way out of the room, back down the hall, through the room with the bumps on the walls and back into the Granger living room where she once again closed and locked the doors, the pendulum fading back into view.

"Not a word to your father," Janet said.

Hermione nodded and then she gasped. "What am I going to tell Ron and Harry? My friends!" She paused. "Why am I worried? I'll lie."

"Hermione Granger!" Janet snapped and Hermione stiffened. "You may not be the same person anymore, but you are still MY daughter, and you do not lie!"

"You lied."

"There are things I never said," Janet replied.

"Sophistry," Hermione scoffed. "You're not actually from Cardiff."

"I landed in Cardiff," Janet replied. "It was in Cardiff that I became Janet Roman. That I was someone else before being Janet was never mentioned; therefore, I didn't lie."

Hermione frowned at her mother. There was a logical hole in that argument. It was so gaping wide that even Crabbe and Goyle could have seen it. "You're playing word games."

"But not telling lies," Janet replied with an air of superiority. As a child, Hermione had admired and tried to emulate that very air. When her mother spoke with that sense of rightness, people turned to listen, to hear, to really hear what she had to say.

Hermione had never, despite her best effort, managed to do the same. She'd come across as snobby, or a know it all. But she'd tried to duplicate it anyway.

Now, it irritated her.

"Sophistry," Hermione said again, crossing her arms. Then she looked down, and frowned and pushed her arms together. "Bollocks!"

At that point, Janet realized why Hermione's vest was a touch too snug.

"None of your bras fit?" she asked.

"Not very well," Hermione admitted sullenly. "And I couldn't find any in there."

Janet fought down a laugh. Underwear had been a strange concept to her when she'd first come to earth. Wearing a garment specifically for support instead of layers of wraps and robes was a strange idea, but then, so had been sex for fun. Janet still found the whole idea of underwear a bit silly, but pregnancy, giving birth, and nursing, had opened her eyes a great deal. "Well as it happens, I'd been meaning to get some new ones. One moment."

Janet went and got her keys and purse.

And then, as an afterthought, she went into Hermione's room and grabbed the wand lying on the bed.

* * *

Companion House was a relatively new pub, not even ten years old. It was in an old brick house two blocks from the Granger cottage and run by a patient and friend of his and Janet's.

Janet had never cared for pubs, she preferred the library or bookstore, but Herbert was a traditionalist and Companion House was designed for drinking. Wood paneling, low light, brick for walls and good beer for only a few pence. It was tasteful, it was a place to drink and socialize and right now, Herbert wanted to drink.

"Afternoon, Herbert," said the woman behind the bar as he walked in and sat. Companion House was almost empty at this time of day and Herbert was glad for it.

"Whiskey, Tegan" he said. "Make it a double." She made the drink and he downed it in one go. "Another." That too, vanished. "A Guinness, please."

She drew the beer from the tap, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "Bad day at the office?" she asked as she set the beer in front of him.

Herbert shook his head. "You wouldn't believe me."

She smiled at him. "You'd be surprised."

Herbert hesitated and then took a long drink of beer. Hell with it. "You know how Jan seems so ageless?"

"Sure, I keep meaning to ask her her secret, but I never get around to it. Why?"

"Something really weird happened today."

"Yeah?" Tegan began polishing glasses.

"Jan and I were having afternoon tea today while Hermione was at the library, when this young woman wearing Hermione's clothes walks in and worse, those clothes are drenched in blood."

Tegan's eyes widened. "Did you call the police?"

"I was too shocked, and then Janet, she gets up, stares into her eyes, and then calls her Hermione like she's our daughter. I'd never seen this woman in my life, but Jan treats her like Hermione. Not a word about all the blood."

Tegan froze for a moment, and then resumed polishing glasses. "Like Hermione changed her face."

"Exactly! She sends her to Hermione's room to change and then sends me to the pub, like this is all perfectly normal!"

"Maybe it is, where she comes from," Tegan said softly, an odd note in her voice.

Even through the haze of alcohol, Herbert knew that that tone of voice. It was the tone of someone who knew something.

"You know something," he accused.

"Knew a man once," Tegan said. "Saw him die and come back to life as someone else. Even traveled with him for a bit." She looked at Herbert. "Gallifrey."

"Gallifrey?" he repeated.

Tegan nodded, put the glass down and picked up another. "See what Jan does if you say it to her. What she might tell you."

"Why can't you just tell me now?"

"Not my place," Tegan said. Not sure I'm right, after all, and," she gave Herbert an odd look. "There could be another reason, right?"

Herbert blinked at her. Well it was true that Hermione . . . wait. "Tegan, are you a--"

Tegan set a double whiskey on the bar. "Your drinks are on the house today, Herbert." She walked away.

Herbert stared down at the glass of whiskey and then drank it. He needed some fresh air, and then he needed some words with his wife.

* * *

It was known as The Leaky Cauldron. Oddly, not everyone knew about it. Janet was very glad that she no longer had to pretend she couldn't see it and walked right up to it and stepped inside, Hermione paused in the doorway.

"Mum . . .?"

"Later, dear," Janet replied, taking her hand and pulling her inside. "We need to get you fitted for new robes." She pulled her through the tavern and out the back.

"I'm sure mine still fit," Hermione protested as they stepped into the little alley. "How did you get into the Leaky Cauldron? You're not a witch."

"I'm not human, either," Janet replied. "I've always been able to see the Magical World."

Hermione glared at her. Janet raised an eyebrow and then handed Hermione her wand. "If you please, dear."

Hermione made a huffing noise and then tapped the bricks. Obediently, the brick wall slid aside and revealed the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley. The two women stepped through the portal and the bricks closed up behind them.

After visiting Gringotts to change their money into Knuts, Sickles, and Galleons, Janet sent Hermione to the robes shop while she went to the Post Office and then to the ice cream parlor for a parfait.

No sooner had she finished, then a shadow loomed over her.

Janet looked up at the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore. "It is wonderful to see you, Doctor Granger. I got your message and came as quick as I could. You said that there was an emergency?"

"It's happened," Janet said simply and Dumbledore sat down.

"I see," he said gravely. "I warned you that this might happen."

"I realize that," Janet said, "but she's not even out of her teens yet. Her friends will have questions, and I shudder to think of any rumors."

Dumbledore smiled. "Hermione has dealt with rumors before," he said. "She acquitted herself well against them, I assure you." He paused. "I realize that I'm breaking certain taboos, but has Hermione spoken of the circumstances behind that caused it?"

Janet shook her head. "Her clothing, mostly her shirt, was drenched with blood, like her throat had been cut." She looked up. "Why?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I was concerned it was Dark Wizards. Hermione is a Muggleborn witch, after all. But they wouldn't use a knife, and certainly not slit a throat." He held up a hand to forestall Janet's outrage. "I warned you and Herbert that Hermione faced certain risks because of her blood. You should be grateful that same blood allowed her to survive."

Janet ground her teeth in pure maternal fury and then forced herself to calm down. "If Hermione is some kind of danger, Albus," she threatened.

"No, no," Dumbledore said. "Hermione is the cleverest witch to come through Hogwarts in ages. Why she's teaching some of the teachers a few things. I daresay that if there's anything dangerous at Hogwarts, it's her."

Janet tapped her fingers on the tabletop. "Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me everything?"

"I get that a lot," Dumbledore said without batting an eye and then smiled. "Janet, Hermione will be fine. I will inform the other teachers of her change. If you and Hermione decide on some sort of story to explain her appearance, let me know by owl and I will pass it on."

Janet nodded as they both stood up. "Albus, I haven't ever thanked you enough for all you've done. You helped me when I crashed on Earth, arranged a new identity, helped me learn to pass as a human. I owe you so much."

Dumbledore smiled. "It is I who owe you. Were it not for your bravery, many lives would have been lost. Helping you and teaching Hermione is a poor way to repay that debt, but I am glad to be of help."

Janet shook her head. "I did very little."

Dumbledore laid his hand on her shoulder. "Never underestimate yourself. More to the point, do not underestimate Herbert. He should know the truth."

"I don't know if I can tell him," Janet replied. "I've kept it a secret for so long. What if he leaves me? I can't bear to lose everything again."

"If you truly believe that of him," Dumbledore said, "then you were never married to begin with." With that, he left the table and Janet sat there, alone until Hermione found her, carrying a small stack of books and written note from Madame Malkin that Hermione's robes only needed a bit of hemming so if Janet could owl them in, Madame Malkin could have them ready before start of term.

Janet sighed as she took the note and then tucked it into her purse. "Let's go home," she said.


End file.
